


Strangers in the Night

by spikesgirl58



Series: octoberwriting [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-11
Updated: 2013-10-11
Packaged: 2017-12-29 02:44:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/999922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't that he was a coward.  There really is something there.  Why won't anyone believe him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strangers in the Night

It's there.

 

Damn it, I know it is.

 

I can hear it, breathing, sighing, thrashing about restlessly, just begging me to look, waiting for me, and knowing that I'm here as much as I know it's there.  I pull my covers around me and tremble.

 

I wasn't always like this.  I was pretty normal when I was young.  Well, as normal as I was likely to get.

 

They called my older brother Cav, which was short for Caviar. My mother and dad had a really weird, sick sense of humor when it came to naming us.  When Mom was carrying Cav, she used to crave caviar, hence his rather unique name.  Me?  Same thing, except she wasn't craving anything as glamorous with me.  I was named after a weed - dill, a feeble, frail little wispy thing...it was sort of appropriate, but I don't know if I became the name or it became me.

               

I idolized Cav; he was the best, the bravest, the smartest big brother that anyone could have.  There was nothing he couldn't do, which unfortunately was just the opposite of me.  He could walk at six months; it took me over a year.  He got high marks, I didn't.  It was something that my dad loved pointing out to his friends whenever they came over; how Cav was going to follow in his footsteps and how I would probably be just like Mom.  This was not a compliment.  I didn't see what difference it made if I preferred looking at flowers instead of pulling the wings off of flies, but I guess it mattered to Dad.

 

"I love you, Cav."          

 

Cav snarling, "Oh, crud, Dad, he's at it again.  Make him stop telling me he loves me."

 

"Dill, leave your brother alone.  He's too busy to play with you."

 

"But, Dad...I just want to be with him."  _I hate you, Cav..._ I never want to see him again in my life.

 

"He doesn't want to be with you.  Who would?"  Then he'd turn to my mother and ask if she was sure I was his.  _Thanks, Cav._

 

One of Cav's favorite pastimes was frightening the bee-jees out of me.  He thought it was funny.  He'd

tell me horrific stories until I was so frightened, it was a week before I would shut my eyes again.

 

Somehow, Mom and Dad could always tell and they'd yelled, sort of, at Cav who would promise, sort of, not to do it again.  Then I'd forgive him, sort of, and Cav would get down to the serious business of cooking up a new scheme to terrify me.  Yet I still loved him and hated him more than life itself.

 

There was this one summer that was incredibly hot and sticky.  No one could sleep that night and everybody was grumpy and short tempered because of it.  Everyone except Cav.  He'd been in a great mood, taking me out to play, giving me the lion's share of his dessert.  I should have known something was up, but I was too delighted to have Cav pay me this kind of attention.  It was like heaven.  Anyhow, Cav had been telling me stories for what seemed like hours, mostly about dragons, his favorite topic.  Even Dad's "Don't make me come in there," hadn't worked very well.  We'd only quieted down, not gone to sleep as they intended.

I could hear the night outside, struggling to gain control over the day's heat.  Even the crickets sounded drowsy and tired.  I could hear Mom and Dad talking in low voices, discussing things only grown-ups find interesting.  He'd be gone to work in a few minutes, then we'd be safe to continue our story telling without constraint.  Mom never interfered with 'her little monsters'...I think it was affectionate, but now I'm not sure.

 

It was about two a.m. and I was as wide awake now as when we'd gone to bed.  The room was stuffy and dusty, which made me sneeze and, to my mortification, sent a bubble of snot shooting out of my nose.  I tried to wipe the snot away, but that only made it worse and in my panic I choked on my own spit.  Eyes watering, I gasped for breath as Cav rolled around on the floor, holding his sides as he laughed. 

 

Frantically I scrambled and got something for my nose, not an easy task when your eyes are water choked.

 

He was recovering from his seizure of hysteria when he suddenly stopped and looked directly at me, practically nose-to-nose with me.  My hand went up to my cheek reflexively, just making sure everything was gone.

 

"Dare you to look."

 

At first I wasn't sure I'd heard him right.  Out of all the things my big and brave brother had done before, he'd never tried this approach.  He knew how I felt about it.  How I made Dad look before I'd go to bed, well, at least until about a year ago when Dad had declared that it was coddling me and that I'd never develop a backbone like that.

 

Dad was like that, you see.  He didn't mean to be so callous.  He was looking out for us, knowing that all too soon we'd be out in a big ugly world trying to make it for ourselves.  Still I hated him then.  I'm not sure how I feel about him now.

 

"What?" I asked my brother, who got this superior expression all over his face.  "Are you crazy?"

 

"I dare you to look."

 

"I'm not going to."

 

"There's nothing to be afraid of.   
Watch."  I held my breath as he ventured into the unknown.  True it was quick, fast and barely a look at all, but he'd done it.  All I had to do was copy him.  I could go through the motions, even keep my eyes shut while doing it.  Still, terror seized my stomach, cramping it with shards of pain. 

 

"Go on, there's nothing to it," Cav said, his voice a low rumble to keep Dad from hearing. 

 

I was paralyzed by the very thought, much less the action itself.  I shook my head.

 

"Coward."  He might as well have doused me with gasoline and set a match to it.  What was left to do?

 

Okay, I should have known better, that I was being set up, but that didn't seem important at the moment.  I'd overheard him only yesterday afternoon, telling his friends that I was just this little quaking poltroon (his word not mine), and that he wasn't entirely sure that I hadn't been adopted because the rest of the family wasn't like that.  _Damn you, Cav._

 

It was urgent that I impressed him.  It was stupid, but I'd do it again if I had a second chance...well, maybe I'd do it again.

 

My left foot was asleep, lucky foot, I wished the rest of me was.  I wiggled my toes, wincing at the pins and needles that danced in it.  There was no way I could dance out of this.  Either I looked or Cav would make sure the world knew that his little brother was scared of his own shadow. 

 

"What are you gonna do, Dill?"  He made my name drip with contempt.

 

So I stuck my head over the edge of the bed and looked.

 

And there it was, soft, pink, and looking back at me with these wide, terrifying eyes.  They were red, I swear they were red.  There were these horrible noises coming from a hole in the middle of its face that was all moist, slick and shiny.  It was ready to seize me and thrash my life from me.  Even now I want to vomit when I think about it.

Of course, it was the aftermath that was the worst, having to live with that memory.  It was hours before they were able to calm my hysteria.  My mother found me barricaded in the closet, screaming as if the devil himself was after me, although I don't remember getting there.

 

When Dad came in after me, I attacked him with a board game.  When that failed, I turned to a bat.  He carried those scars for the rest of his life and never looked at me the same way again. 

 

That was when Mom called the doctors, they were still making house calls back then.  They stitched up Dad and gave me this vile-tasting medicine that they pawned off on my parents as a nerve tonic.  It worked beautifully, I was twice as nervous after taking it.  And I wasn't coming out of that closet; it was as if I'd returned to the womb.  In it I was safe and protected.  Outside was a horrific, terrifying world.

 

Only after Cav confessed to the trick and disassembled his creation did I allow them to coax me out, my dad, pale and shaken from my attack, my mom, trembling and talking in this high-pitched voice that made the back of my jaws ache.    

 

You see, I knew it wasn't Cav's pillow‑and‑blanket creation that had frightened me, but something much, much more.  Something real, I'd seen something real, but no one believed me or believes me.

               

Yes, I know I'm a big strong monster, but I also know that if I get up and look right now, there's going to be a human lying on top of the bed....

 

 

It's there.

 

Damn it, I know it is.

 

I can hear it, breathing, sighing, thrashing about restlessly, just begging me to look, waiting for me, and knowing that I'm here as much as I know it's there.  I pull my covers around me and tremble.

 

I wasn't always like this.  I was pretty normal when I was young.  Well, as normal as I was likely to get.

 

They called my older brother Cav, which was short for Caviar. My mother and dad had a really weird, sick sense of humor when it came to naming us.  When Mom was carrying Cav, she used to crave caviar, hence his rather unique name.  Me?  Same thing, except she wasn't craving anything as glamorous with me.  I was named after a weed - dill, a feeble, frail little wispy thing...it was sort of appropriate, but I don't know if I became the name or it became me.

               

I idolized Cav; he was the best, the bravest, the smartest big brother that anyone could have.  There was nothing he couldn't do, which unfortunately was just the opposite of me.  He could walk at six months; it took me over a year.  He got high marks, I didn't.  It was something that my dad loved pointing out to his friends whenever they came over; how Cav was going to follow in his footsteps and how I would probably be just like Mom.  This was not a compliment.  I didn't see what difference it made if I preferred looking at flowers instead of pulling the wings off of flies, but I guess it mattered to Dad.

 

"I love you, Cav."          

 

Cav snarling, "Oh, crud, Dad, he's at it again.  Make him stop telling me he loves me."

 

"Dill, leave your brother alone.  He's too busy to play with you."

 

"But, Dad...I just want to be with him."  _I hate you, Cav..._ I never want to see him again in my life.

 

"He doesn't want to be with you.  Who would?"  Then he'd turn to my mother and ask if she was sure I was his.  _Thanks, Cav._

 

One of Cav's favorite pastimes was frightening the bee-jees out of me.  He thought it was funny.  He'd

tell me horrific stories until I was so frightened, it was a week before I would shut my eyes again.

 

Somehow, Mom and Dad could always tell and they'd yelled, sort of, at Cav who would promise, sort of, not to do it again.  Then I'd forgive him, sort of, and Cav would get down to the serious business of cooking up a new scheme to terrify me.  Yet I still loved him and hated him more than life itself.

 

There was this one summer that was incredibly hot and sticky.  No one could sleep that night and everybody was grumpy and short tempered because of it.  Everyone except Cav.  He'd been in a great mood, taking me out to play, giving me the lion's share of his dessert.  I should have known something was up, but I was too delighted to have Cav pay me this kind of attention.  It was like heaven.  Anyhow, Cav had been telling me stories for what seemed like hours, mostly about dragons, his favorite topic.  Even Dad's "Don't make me come in there," hadn't worked very well.  We'd only quieted down, not gone to sleep as they intended.

I could hear the night outside, struggling to gain control over the day's heat.  Even the crickets sounded drowsy and tired.  I could hear Mom and Dad talking in low voices, discussing things only grown-ups find interesting.  He'd be gone to work in a few minutes, then we'd be safe to continue our story telling without constraint.  Mom never interfered with 'her little monsters'...I think it was affectionate, but now I'm not sure.

 

It was about two a.m. and I was as wide awake now as when we'd gone to bed.  The room was stuffy and dusty, which made me sneeze and, to my mortification, sent a bubble of snot shooting out of my nose.  I tried to wipe the snot away, but that only made it worse and in my panic I choked on my own spit.  Eyes watering, I gasped for breath as Cav rolled around on the floor, holding his sides as he laughed. 

 

Frantically I scrambled and got something for my nose, not an easy task when your eyes are water choked.

 

He was recovering from his seizure of hysteria when he suddenly stopped and looked directly at me, practically nose-to-nose with me.  My hand went up to my cheek reflexively, just making sure everything was gone.

 

"Dare you to look."

 

At first I wasn't sure I'd heard him right.  Out of all the things my big and brave brother had done before, he'd never tried this approach.  He knew how I felt about it.  How I made Dad look before I'd go to bed, well, at least until about a year ago when Dad had declared that it was coddling me and that I'd never develop a backbone like that.

 

Dad was like that, you see.  He didn't mean to be so callous.  He was looking out for us, knowing that all too soon we'd be out in a big ugly world trying to make it for ourselves.  Still I hated him then.  I'm not sure how I feel about him now.

 

"What?" I asked my brother, who got this superior expression all over his face.  "Are you crazy?"

 

"I dare you to look."

 

"I'm not going to."

 

"There's nothing to be afraid of.   
Watch."  I held my breath as he ventured into the unknown.  True it was quick, fast and barely a look at all, but he'd done it.  All I had to do was copy him.  I could go through the motions, even keep my eyes shut while doing it.  Still, terror seized my stomach, cramping it with shards of pain. 

 

"Go on, there's nothing to it," Cav said, his voice a low rumble to keep Dad from hearing. 

 

I was paralyzed by the very thought, much less the action itself.  I shook my head.

 

"Coward."  He might as well have doused me with gasoline and set a match to it.  What was left to do?

 

Okay, I should have known better, that I was being set up, but that didn't seem important at the moment.  I'd overheard him only yesterday afternoon, telling his friends that I was just this little quaking poltroon (his word not mine), and that he wasn't entirely sure that I hadn't been adopted because the rest of the family wasn't like that.  _Damn you, Cav._

 

It was urgent that I impressed him.  It was stupid, but I'd do it again if I had a second chance...well, maybe I'd do it again.

 

My left foot was asleep, lucky foot, I wished the rest of me was.  I wiggled my toes, wincing at the pins and needles that danced in it.  There was no way I could dance out of this.  Either I looked or Cav would make sure the world knew that his little brother was scared of his own shadow. 

 

"What are you gonna do, Dill?"  He made my name drip with contempt.

 

So I stuck my head over the edge of the bed and looked.

 

And there it was, soft, pink, and looking back at me with these wide, terrifying eyes.  They were red, I swear they were red.  There were these horrible noises coming from a hole in the middle of its face that was all moist, slick and shiny.  It was ready to seize me and thrash my life from me.  Even now I want to vomit when I think about it.

Of course, it was the aftermath that was the worst, having to live with that memory.  It was hours before they were able to calm my hysteria.  My mother found me barricaded in the closet, screaming as if the devil himself was after me, although I don't remember getting there.

 

When Dad came in after me, I attacked him with a board game.  When that failed, I turned to a bat.  He carried those scars for the rest of his life and never looked at me the same way again. 

 

That was when Mom called the doctors, they were still making house calls back then.  They stitched up Dad and gave me this vile-tasting medicine that they pawned off on my parents as a nerve tonic.  It worked beautifully, I was twice as nervous after taking it.  And I wasn't coming out of that closet; it was as if I'd returned to the womb.  In it I was safe and protected.  Outside was a horrific, terrifying world.

 

Only after Cav confessed to the trick and disassembled his creation did I allow them to coax me out, my dad, pale and shaken from my attack, my mom, trembling and talking in this high-pitched voice that made the back of my jaws ache.    

 

You see, I knew it wasn't Cav's pillow‑and‑blanket creation that had frightened me, but something much, much more.  Something real, I'd seen something real, but no one believed me or believes me.

               

Yes, I know I'm a big strong monster, but I also know that if I get up and look right now, there's going to be a human lying on top of the bed....

 

 

 


End file.
